


Hotel California Part 7: Trust In Flight

by carolroi (CarolROI)



Series: Hotel California [9]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related, F/M, S/M, b/d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolROI/pseuds/carolroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair makes some more realizations about his relationships with Jim and Julia, and the nature of trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotel California Part 7: Trust In Flight

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains scenes of safe, sane and consensual B/D and S/M. It also has pairings of Blair/F, Blair/M and Blair/F/M. Enemas and women topping men are also found within. If these are not your things, click the back button now. 
> 
> If this sort of story interests you, let me give you some background information on it. When I started this experiment in progress, I challenged myself to write the hottest, steamiest erotica I could think of. I had also been reading a good deal of erotica written by men. Men write sex tales different than women do. They're more interested in the mechanics and the getting off than the emotional element (though that is here as well). To challenge myself even further, this is written in Blair's point of view, as a man (or as close as I can get) would write it. Somewhere in there, a plot happened amid the PWP sex.

I awake early the next morning, still in Julia's embrace. She's asleep on her side; her cheek resting against my shoulder, her arm loosely wrapped around my waist. My emotional response to our positions is so strong I have to blink back tears. Swallowing hard, I stare up at our reflections in the ceiling, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions I'm feeling. Peace, contentment, fulfillment...a sense of belonging, of being wanted, of being cared for. Funny how much can be conveyed in a simple touch. 

I turn that over in my mind, the language of touch, thinking immediately of Jim. He was always touching me, nearly as often as Julia does, but the words weren't the same, the touches meant something entirely different. Personal space when it came to other people meant nothing to Jim. He was always in my space, messing with my hair, punching my arm, pushing me behind him. Sometimes I thought of it as male bonding, or as him imprinting me on his senses; other moments it was just irritating. But I'm seeing it from a different perspective now. It was his way of saying, "I'm the leader, I'm in charge," much like the alpha wolf in a pack will exert his dominance over the others, forcing them to roll on their backs and offer their throats in submission. Same with the house rules, and the unspoken rules I never could figure out, the ones that got me in trouble with Alex Barnes, and with my dissertation. All were designed, unconsciously perhaps, for me to fail, to reinforce Jim's superiority, to make me submit to his way of doing things. I shudder. The mere idea of submitting to Jim in any manner terrifies me. I'll have to ask Julia what that means. 

Julia...she touches me as much as Jim ever did, if not more. Granted, many of those are sensual in nature, but she touches to comfort, to calm, to reassure me just as often. Even though she's just as much an alpha as Jim, and my Mistress to boot, she doesn't make me feel inadequate. When she touches me, I feel...cherished. Instead of my personal space being invaded, I feel like I've been welcomed into hers, that I'm a part of her, that I belong. I can't remember the last time I felt like I truly belonged somewhere. Why did it take me five years to find my way back here? 

Lips nibble lightly at my ear. "Penny for your thoughts, pet," Julia breathes as she moves closer to me, her leg sliding over mine. 

The blissful, happy feeling inside me blossoms, sending a rush of warmth through my body. "Just thinking how nice it is to wake up this way, wrapped up in your arms." 

She kisses my cheek. "Feels good, doesn't it?" 

Nodding, I lay my arm over hers where it encircles my waist. "Very good, Mistress. It's hard to hate myself when you make me feel so wonderful." 

"Well, you are, you know. You always have been." She presses soft little kisses along my jaw and down the side of my neck. 

"I'm sorry, Mistress," I blurt out. 

"Sorry for what, precious?" 

"Sorry I didn't come back here sooner. Sorry I denied myself this for so long." I roll over to face her, needing to be closer still than I already am. 

She studies me for a long moment, stroking my cheek with her fingertips. Finally, she says, "I've often wondered about that, why, when you came back from South America, you never contacted me. I missed you, you know." 

A lump forms in my throat. "You missed me?" 

She brushes her thumb over my lower lip. "Of course I missed you. You were my friend, my lover, my very sweet and willing slave...." 

Tears sting my eyes. I never knew. I thought...hell, I don't know what I thought. That it was all an act maybe, part of the B and D game. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't come back because I was scared." 

Julia pulls me close, gently rubbing my back. "Oh, precious, scared of what?" 

I swallow hard, then say, "Of what I am when I'm with you." One of her eyebrows raises, and I realize I'll have to explain further, no matter how hard it is. "The time I spent with you before was wonderful, but when I left, I found myself in close quarters with people who didn't understand the bondage thing, who thought it was perverted. I made the mistake of mentioning what I'd done my Masters thesis on one night, and spent the rest of my time on the expedition kind of an outcast, forever branded a pervert in my fellow anthropologists' minds. It made the rest of the year there rather painful. So when I came back to the states, I decided the best thing was to put that time, and my unusual desires behind me. I never mentioned it again to anyone, never sought another Mistress, never tried to contact you. And for the most part, I was successful. Now, I can see I wasn't ever truly fulfilled in any of my relationships, but I can't blame that entirely on my suppressing my desires." 

The look she gives me is so knowing, so tender, it makes me regret my decision even more. "Oh, Blair, I'm so sorry, baby. I know how it feels to be always on the outside. It can be a very lonely place." 

A question nags at me, and I finally have to ask it. "Mistress, if you missed me so much, why didn't you try to find me when I came back? You knew I was going back to Rainier." 

She lets out a long sigh, and for a moment I think she's going to refuse to answer me. Then she murmurs, "I did. I waited until the fall semester had started, gave you enough time to get settled in, and then I found an excuse to go to Cascade. A friend was setting up a new club there, and wanted some advice. So I called the university, found out which building your office was in, and headed up there." 

I'm stunned. "You...you came to Rainier? What happened? Wasn't I there? Why didn't you come see me?" 

"I did," she answers. "I parked in front of your building and was about to go inside, when I saw you walking across the campus with someone. He was a tall, muscular man, with short hair, and a military attitude. You were so beautiful with your long hair fluttering in the breeze, bouncing and talking with your hands and laughing. He was trying not to smile. You looked so excited and happy. My showing up would have only made things awkward for you. I bring a lot of baggage to any relationship, even just friendship." She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, and I feel awful that my happiness had caused her pain. 

"I'm sorry," I say again. 

Laying her hand on my cheek, she shakes her head. "No, no, there's no reason for you to be sorry. I was happy for you. If you had found what you were looking for, then I wanted that for you. I want your life to always be full of joy, Blair, whether or not I'm in it." 

I don't know how to respond to that. For some reason, her words, though meant to reassure, make my heart ache, for her, and for me. We lie together in silence, holding on to each other until the alarm goes off, and it's time to start another day. 

* * *

I'm still thinking about our conversation when I cross the hall to my bedroom to take a shower. What would my life have been like if I had come back from South America and gone to see Julia? Would it have changed anything? Would I have made the same mistakes? Would I have even met Jim? Massaging shampoo into my hair, I turn that over in my mind. Even if I had been with Julia, I still would have been looking for a sentinel. I probably would have stumbled over Jim the same way I did. But it would have been so cool to have someone to talk things over with, to give me advice when I started to screw things up. 

Huh. Funny how I automatically assume I would have told Julia about Jim, about finding a sentinel. I can't imagine not telling her, can't even imagine having to think about it for a moment. It comes right back to that thing that Jim and I never seemed to get right: trust. Amazing how trusting Julia is as easy, as natural as breathing, and trusting Jim is...well, a struggle. It wasn't that way in the beginning. I trusted Jim completely, even through he'd thrown me into a wall at our second meeting, and was notorious for keeping things to himself. He though, had probably never trusted me, and that had destroyed everything, maybe even our friendship. 

Turning off the water, I shake my head. Let's not go there right now. I force thoughts of Jim from my mind, but I can't shut my brain off completely. If I won't allow it to think of Jim, then it turns back to Julia. I'm cleaning my piercings, replaying our earlier conversation. She missed me so much she'd come looking for me, and I, being the spineless worm that I am, had been so frightened of what others might think of me, that I couldn't even manage a phone call to let her know I was back okay. That must have hurt her. 

And here I am, five years later, crawling back to her when my life's a mess, wanting her to make it all better for me, the jerk who left her hanging. No wonder Jim doesn't trust me. He probably senses what I did, how I run when the going gets tough. How I'm running now. 

"Blair?" Julia's voice startles me. "You ready to go get breakfast?" 

I knock the bottle of antibacterial soap over in my haste to turn around. "I--I--in a minute, Mistress." 

Her sharp eyes miss nothing, seeing my nervousness, my angst, and her eyebrow raises. "What's the matter, pet?" She enters the bathroom, laying her hand on my chest. "Your heart's pounding. Did I scare you?" 

I start to nod, then shake my head, wondering why I suddenly feel so guilty. I mumble an apology, my eyes on the carpet. 

"Sorry for what? You haven't done anything wrong, precious." Her fingertips under my chin slowly raise my head, and she studies my face intently. 

Licking my lips nervously, I say, "I'm sorry I'm such a screw up. I'm sorry I dumped all my problems in your lap. I'm sorry I was scared. I should have called you. I should have--" 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there." She puts her hand over my mouth gently. "We have enough to work on without you feeling guilty for something that never happened. We can brood over what might have been all we want, but we're never really going to know, are we? For all we know, it could have turned out very badly for both of us. So let's just let it go, okay?" 

I nod, knowing she's right, but I still feel like I let her down. "Mistress, I...I don't know if I can." 

She sighs, then says, "At least you're honest about it. Do you think you could let it go if I punished you for it? For not calling me?" 

"Yes, I think so, Mistress. It worked with the whole Alex thing." 

"All right, finish what you were doing, then come to my room to be punished." She leaves, and I hastily finish my morning ablutions, then cross the hall. 

Julia is sitting on the edge of the bed, several items lying beside her on display. One is a hard leather paddle; the others are a thick butt plug and my cock harness. I cross the room to stand in front of her, my hands behind my back. She fastens the harness on me first, commenting, "I don't want you to accidentally enjoy your punishment." 

"Thank you for the harness, Mistress. I wouldn't want to come without your permission." She smiles up at me, and that wonderful feeling of belonging washes over me again. The mistakes of the past are forgotten; all that matters is that I am hers, here, now. 

She tugs at my harness to get my attention. "Over my lap, pet." 

I comply, keeping my hands behind my back, and she begins to spank me. She uses her hand first, fifty slaps to warm me up. She pauses, and I concentrate on breathing, and try not to think about my very hard cock. When she thinks I've calmed down somewhat, Julia switches to the paddle. I count out the strokes between yelps, and by the time I reach one hundred, my eyes are watering, my ass is on fire, and I'm incredibly turned on. 

Julia massages my back and my hot cheeks lightly, letting me catch my breath before she asks, "Now what was it you were being punished for?" in a teasing voice. 

Letting out a low moan, I answer, "Don't remember and don't care, Mistress." 

She laughs and bends over me, kissing the back of my neck. "I guess there's something to be said for your punishment idea after all, pet." Picking up the anal plug, she quickly and efficiently lubricates it and me. I clutch at the bedcovers as she pushes it slowly inside me, feeling my body open under her skillful touch. She rocks it back and forth. I yell as she hits my prostate and thrust involuntarily against her thigh, nearly coming. 

"Sorry, Mistress, sorry," I pant, shuddering at the intense sensations pulsing through my ass and groin. 

"Easy, baby." Letting go of the plug, Julia tells me to get down, and I kneel on the floor between her legs. She wraps her arms around me, hugging me, rubbing my back. Leaning into her embrace, I rest my forehead against her neck and slowly calm down. 

Julia's playing with my hair, kissing the top of my head, when she says softly, "I've been thinking, pet. I really enjoyed last night with Carrie, and I was reminded of how much I like to watch. So what I'd like to do Friday night is a scene with you and Patrick, if you're comfortable with that." 

A shiver of anticipation runs down my spine, and I raise my face to look at her. "What kind of scene, Mistress?" 

"I'd like to watch while you and Patrick pleasure each other, ending with him topping you, though I'll understand if you don't want to do it. I know very well that's not your usual thing." She rubs her thumb across my cheek and gives me a smile. 

I swallow, and stammer, "I--I don't know, Mistress. I--" 

"You don't have to give me your answer right this second. I've already talked to Patrick, and he's willing to do whatever he has to to make you feel comfortable with him. What I'd like you to do is think about it for a while, then go talk to him, really discuss it, and then make up your mind. But like I said, if you don't think you'd be comfortable, then we won't do it. I want you to put your needs first when you're thinking about this, Blair. Is it going to be pleasurable for you? If you're not going to enjoy it, then neither am I and neither is Patrick, and we'll all be happier creating a scene we all like. Okay?" 

I nod solemnly, and she laughs. "Lighten up, pet. It's supposed to be fun." Reaching down, she gives my cock a tweak, then gets to her feet. "Come on, let's get going. I've got a busy day, and so do you." 

Following her out of the bedroom, I turn her proposition over in my mind. As always, pleasing her thrills me, but part of me rebels at the thought of Patrick. He's a nice guy, but...he's a guy. And there's no emotional attachment, not like there is with Julia. Can I just enjoy the simple sensuality of touching and being touched, or will my uneasiness over the guy thing make it impossible for me to do so? Something to think about. 

* * *

After my chores are finished, I meet Julia in her office. She's seated at her desk, engrossed in the contents of a stack of folders. She looks up as I enter. 

"Hey, pet, take a seat, I'll be with you in a minute." She finishes making a note on her pad, then gets up and joins me on the sofa. "So, you bored yet?" 

"Bored?" 

"Well, chores and sex aren't the most intellectually stimulating ways to pass the time." 

I laugh. "I'm okay, really. It's kind of nice not to have to worry about work or school or..." I don't finish the sentence. 

Julia reaches over and brushes a curl off my forehead. "Well, if you ever do get a desire to do something else to occupy your time, take up a hobby, take some classes in something, just let me know." 

"I'm comfortable with the way things are, " I say, the idea of going out in the world again making me uneasy. 

"Okay, I won't push--yet. But I want you to think of this time in your life as an opportunity to do the things you've always wanted to, but never had the time for. You know, like art classes, or hang gliding lessons. Though I admit I have a hard time seeing you hang gliding." 

"No, no hang gliding for me. But art sounds kind of cool. When I was down in South America, we uncovered some really unusual pottery. I've always wondered if someone today knew how it was made or if it's a lost art." 

"See? There you go. Just let me know when you want to get started." She gives me a smile, then changes the subject. "I have three clients today, so I'm going to have to put your session off until this evening. In the meantime, it's a beautiful day outside. Feel free to get dressed and go take a walk, get some sun. And if you want something to do while you're out there, write some more letters to anyone you feel you need to apologize or explain yourself to. Use it as a way to organize your thoughts and feelings about the person and what you feel you did that hurt them. Then we can discuss what you wrote about tonight. That okay with you?" 

"Yes, mistress." Truth be told, I am eager to go outside. She supplies me with a pen and a notebook, and I head to my room to get dressed. 

A few minutes later, I go out the back door of the house, and start my walk through the grounds. It really is a beautiful day out. The sun is shining, the trees are beginning to bud, and the first of the spring flowers are blooming. I walk through the wooded two-acre lot, following a faint trail to the stream that runs through the property. Reaching it, I climb up on a big flat rock on the bank and take a seat. For a long time, I just sit there, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, listening to the burble of the water as it rushes by. The peaceful setting reflects the momentary peace I feel in my soul. 

Then with a sigh, I open the notebook Julia gave me, and find my instructions written in her clear, precise hand. "Write a letter to Christine, then write about what you think is different about the way you feel today from the way you felt when you arrived here." I feel a smile tugging at my lips. I can do this. 

Flipping to a blank page, I begin my letter to Christine Hong, the woman I was dating during the David Lash case. As the memories rush back, I feel awful about the way I treated her. Especially now, when I've come to realize just how special and important trust is in a relationship. I had trusted her enough to confide in her, to tell her about seeing Susan Frasier's dead body. In fact, I think she's the only person I ever talked to about the horrors I saw working with Jim. 

She was sympathetic, supportive, even went with me to Club Doom to check out Billy Bright's background. Yet I still suspected her of leaking information about the case to the press. Turned out it was Lash himself feeding the media. How could I have ever thought it was Chris? How could I trust her with my pain, and yet, not trust her to keep it to herself? I didn't know why she got angry when I told her of my doubts. I understand now, because I've had the same thing happen to me. 

I've been thinking a lot about trust for the past few days, weeks, actually, ever since the dissertation mess. Thinking about what it means to me, about what it means to Jim. And I've come to the conclusion that we approach trusting another person very differently. 

I believe that humans are born with an innate sense of trust of the world and the people in it. As children, we don't understand what betrayal is, until it happens to us, until our trust in someone or something is broken. Then one of two things happens. We vow never to trust anyone ever again, or we deal with the pain, lick our wounds, and continue to trust people at first glance until proven otherwise. That's me. 

Jim was always complaining that I was too trusting, that I wasn't suspicious enough, and looking back at some of the shit I put myself through, maybe he was right. But I've always believed that people can change, that somewhere inside, we all want to do the right thing. We're just looking for someone to give us that opportunity, someone to trust us to rise above all the stupid crap we've done in our lives, to give us a chance. I have given that chance to almost everyone I've ever met. Sometimes my faith was rewarded, sometimes it wasn't, but I've tried to believe in the good in everyone. 

At some point in Jim's past, his ability to trust people was shaken. Maybe it was the whole, Mom leaves, Dad's an SOB shit, I don't know. Whatever it was hurt him to the point that he doesn't give his trust freely, it has to be earned. But how does one do that? How does he decide what hurdles someone has to cross before he considers them trustworthy? How many tests does he have to give? What if they don't realize it's a test, and they mess up? Does he give them another chance, or are they forever branded unreliable, a potential back-stabber, a traitor? 

Somewhere in the years I've lived with Jim, I must have failed one of those pop quizzes. I was branded untrustworthy. I think he would have tossed me out of his life long ago if it weren't for the sentinel thing. He had to trust me there in the beginning because he was drowning and I held a life preserver. But I think Jim's resented me for it since the moment we met. 

So, Jim's reaction to the whole Alex thing and the dissertation fiasco shouldn't have surprised me. But it did. What's more, it hurt like I've never been hurt in my life. It makes me wonder, what's the point? Nothing I do is ever going to be enough. I'm never going to measure up to Jim's standards. 

Still, I don't know if I'm ready to let my relationship with Jim go. So many things unsaid between us, things I've voiced to Julia, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to say to Jim. I can't trust him to listen, to _hear_ me without becoming defensive. Hell, I'm not sure I trust him at all anymore. 

Sighing, I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them, resting my chin on my forearm. Where do I go from here? Can I ever go back to Cascade, back to the loft, back to my friendship with Jim? And what in the hell would I do with my life if I did? I have to make some kind of decision eventually. I can't sponge off Julia forever, and I'm not holding out any false hope about getting a settlement from the publisher, despite what Dagne thinks. 

Ironic how I can't trust the man I once called my Blessed Protector, while I would gladly hand my soul over for safe keeping to a woman who beats me. The thought crosses my mind that I'm one sick fuck. Still, Julia has never, ever hurt me without my permission, never been anything less than totally honest with me, and I have always come first with her. She's comfortable enough in her own skin that she can give me the kind of attention I need. 

I feel a smile cross my face at the mere thought of her. Hard to believe a week ago I was on the verge of a complete breakdown. While I'm not back to whatever passes for normal for me, I don't feel like I'm going to shatter into a million pieces anymore. It isn't the punishment that's done it for me, either. It's been Julia's rock solid support and compassion; the way she makes me feel like I'm worth something just by being me, past mistakes, twisted desires, and all. For once in my life, the insane, crazy choice was the right one to make. 

The sound of footsteps crunching on the path interrupts my musing. I look up to see Julia enter the glade, her face lighting up with what looks like relief. "There you are, pet. I was getting a bit worried when you didn't come back for lunch." 

Looking up at the sky, I notice that the sun is pretty far west of directly overhead. "I'm sorry, Mistress. I guess I had a lot of thinking to do." 

Walking over to where I'm sitting, she climbs up on the rock behind me, putting her legs on either side of me, and wrapping her arms around me from the back. She presses up against me, kissing my cheek, and says, "It's all right. Did you get done what I asked?" 

I lean into her embrace, enjoying the feeling of closeness, of belonging. "Yes. I wrote Chris. If you don't mind, I'd really like to send her the letter, if I can find her address. It's important to me that she reads my apology." 

"I don't have a problem with that," Julia says. "What about the other thing I asked you to do? Do you think you're making progress? Are you becoming who you want to be?" 

I consider my answer for a few seconds, then I reply, "It's hard to believe, but I think I am getting better. I feel so far removed from who I was a week ago, that I don't know him anymore. I think I just needed you." I shift my position so that I'm looking at her. Her expression is slightly surprised. "No, no, it's not what you're thinking. I'm not fixating on you as a solution to my problems. I'm not sure I've _solved_ any of my problems. I just know that I need someone to believe in me, and you do. And right now, that makes all the difference in the world. It's hard to keep beating myself up when you make me feel so--" I pause, searching for the right word "--so wanted, so loved for who I am, not who I think I should be. Does that make any sense?" 

She stares at me for the longest moment, then presses her lips to my forehead. "That is the most sensible thing I've heard from anyone in a long time." She gives me a squeeze, then says, "Come on back to the house with me. I've got one more client before dinnertime. Then we can eat, and I can spend the rest of the evening concentrating on you. We can talk, we can go to the playroom, I can mete out some punishment, if you want...anything your heart desires. A reward for your progress. What would you like to do?" 

Julia gets up from the rock, and gathering my stuff, I do the same, thinking about her proposal. We're halfway back to the house, walking hand in hand, when I say, "I'd like some time in the playroom, Mistress. It's been years since I had a good flogging." 

She encircles my waist with her arm and gives me a hug. "You need some time in slave space?" 

I nod. Suddenly the desire to free myself in the pleasure of pain is overwhelming. "Yes, Mistress," I answer. "I need to let go, to find out if I still can trust absolutely. Because if I can, then maybe I can learn to trust Jim again." 

"All right then. Meet me in the play room after dinner." We reach the house, and she goes to meet her client, while I head to my room to undress, sure of what I want from my Mistress, but uncertain about my ability to handle it. 

* * *

Julia fastens the cuff on my wrist to the speader bar, then kisses me gently. I close my eyes, a shiver of anticipation running through me. No fear, though, just a wonderful feeling of calm, of trust. She runs her hand down my leg, then hooks the ankle cuffs to the rings set in the floor. "That okay, pet?" she asks, checking the tension on the chain holding the spreader bar above my head. 

Wrapping my fingers around the smooth metal rod, I nod. "It's good." 

She rubs her hands over my shoulders and down my back, stroking, soothing, relaxing me. "I'm going to take this very slowly, give you plenty of time to get warmed up. All I want you to do is keep breathing nice, deep, even breaths. You start hyperventilating, and this will be over much sooner than I know you want it to be." 

"I understand, Mistress." She knows me too well. Already my excitement has raised both my heartrate and my respiration. 

"Good boy." She takes down a soft suede flogger from the wall, but doesn't strike me with it. Instead, she runs the tails all over my skin, from the top of my shoulders to my calves. When I think I'm going to scream from the frustration, from my need, she hits me. Starting with painless, light rhythmic flicks of the flogger against my upper back, she moves downward to my calves, then back up again. Circling round me, she does the same to my front, being very careful of my piercings. 

She pauses, her fingertips latching onto my nipple and pinching. I moan and lean into it, but it in no way satisfies my desire for pain. "More, Mistress," I plead. 

Julia kisses my cheek, then steps back. A quick rotation of her wrist smacks the tails of the whip lightly against my cock. I hiss, my head going back, my hips thrusting forward. 

"You like that, huh?" 

"Yessss...more...." She strikes my genitals again, then goes back to work on the rest of me, this time putting enough force into the blows that the flogger stings. 

I close my eyes, letting go of any thought more complicated than wondering where the blow is going to land. By the time she finishes warming me up fifteen minutes later, I'm not even capable of that. All I know is for a few minutes the flogging stops and the only thing I feel is the heat of my skin. Then Julia's cool hands are on me, rubbing my arms and shoulders, cupping my face. I open my eyes. 

"Blair, how are you doing, baby?" 

"Mmm, good," I answer. "Feels good. Almost there...." 

"Almost where, precious?" 

Sighing, I whisper, "Ecstasy..." She kisses my temple, then steps away. Vaguely I register the faint whistle as the whip moves through the air, then the penetrating thud as it impacts against my shoulders. I gasp, and my fingers wrap tightly around the bar. She's switched to the heavy-weight flogger, giving up the sharp bite of the lighter one for the deep bruising ability of the other. 

Again she works slowly, making sure all of the safe areas of my body receive an equal amount of time, my upper back and shoulders, my buttocks, my thighs and lower legs. She works my chest a little bit, but my nipples are still too tender for heavy play. Much attention is given to the inside of my thighs, eventually bringing me to tears. Julia doesn't stop then, though, realizing I'm close to the release I crave. She switches to striking my ass, and the back of my legs in steady, even, hard blows. 

I'm shuddering and breathing raggedly, my body rocking under each hit. Nothing matters now, but the fraction of a moment between each lash where there is no pain. I'm balancing on the lip of a volcano, and in one of those moments, I slip over the edge, soaring free. No pain, no fear, no worry, only the incredible sensation of flying. 

Like Icarus burned by the sun, I start to fall, but I'm not afraid. Julia will catch me. And when my eyes flutter open, I'm in her arms, home again, safe and sound. 

* * *


End file.
